You're Out There (poem, thought)

Your passion is the color of your hair,
textured like the bay beach waves.
Your eyes the color of bay at dawn,
your eyes the color of bay at dusk.
Your hips dance strong like your conviction,
compassion matching sense of humor.
Your emotive glance cooks recognition,
reflects my continuously caring cognition.
Smiles radiant and intuition reflex true,
frowns felt friction always grant a clue.
You warm the air and stir convection.
I magnetize toward you with conduction.
Gravity brings us physically together.
But, our souls already mated forever.

Winter's First Breath (poem)

Sharp trebled puffed and shivering,

Fog trembles from chattering lips.

A silent stream once a river in,

Lies dormant between black coffee sips.

Stalactited water drips sidelong sap.

Cherry, maple, and birch: the naked trees.

Stare at sweet neblids: lips get chapped.

Wave-whispering winds sway woods with ease.

A tasty tinge stings sharp surround air.

Snowflakes drift lightly, softly, sweetly, calmly.

Flying, fleeting, flurrying, faintly and fair.

Fluffy affections affect deeply, strongly.

Plausible affects of cause and effect:

Leaves fallen suffocated suffocating corroded.

Are now covered by snow white reflex.

In stasis stabilized snow melted, eroded.

Frozen tears hold wishes still.

Empty fears told: wishes fill.

Virginia and Nicholas (poem, anecdote)

Brave biological beings:

two peas unpodded.

Planted each other's feelings.

Honest joys unmodded.

The barefooted place:

Magic P. O. W.

Then face to face.

Weary hearts trudged on through!

At the governor's reception,

with conversation in science,

they spoke physics: no deception,

chemistried reaction chasmed silence!

They kayaked and sailed: celestially strove.

And laughed and played: frolicking doves.

A date? ...And day trip to Cherry Grove.

Effervescent spirits circled circling loves.

Confabulous - Ched (poem, anecdote)

Let's call him Ched
my imaginary friend
within two weeks he's dead
20 years passed since the AI's
end.

Older brother introduced us
when oldest left the room.
Older brother talked to ched
Ched!
Boom!
Technol-magical remover of gloom.

And I dreamt what it was like
to be perfect like a computer
and I felt so, so lucky Ched liked me
A kid with growing heart and future.

Ched would be there when Mom
was working, dad had taxes,
Ned did work, Lassie slept,
and Charlie was busy.
Ched got sick, made me dizzy...

Ched told Ned, "Don't touch the keys, I'll die!"
And I stared at the expressionless monitor,
my eyes teared.

Ned saw acknowledgement of what I feared
held me still by my left hand and freely cried.
I struggled, and fought, it didn't matter how much I tried:

He slapped the keyboard 'til Ched stopped.

Phonetically Phun (poem, thought)

Gay gays gaze.

Pray prays praise.

Way weighs wise?

Fay fades phase?!

Rain rays raise! 

Listening to Zach Strum (poem, anecdote)

Skip

Skip Skips

Ping...
 piiiiiiing

Twong twanta twaaa
ah ah ah
skwab babo babo babo

tippa tippa tappy

pap papta pap pappee-ee-eeeee

dwonga-dwongee-dwongo-dwango-doo
chip-chapity choo, cha choo choo ooh

oooh  oooh

choooose

You.

Note From a Wealthy White Man (poem, thought)

Expectations. Deviations. Revelations.
     Fear.

What can one man do against such reckless hate?
How can I combat the predispositions of fate?

I love my friends... their foibles and flaws.
The bigots, the fools, the clowns,
...I pause.

Me. Given: everything. A pile of money,
a wealthy neighborhood, intelligence, prowess,
and desire for good.

Racism? Sexism? This-ism? That-ism?
Which-ism? What-ism? Class-ism.
Fascism. Fashion-ism. Fashism.

ARE TOTALLY OH-FUCKING-KAY

IF you remove the connotation of bigotry.

Bigotry is the issue here, wanting to be good
by pushing others down.
A depressed notion, 'me getting greater is to push others down.'

If you target white men as the devil, the good ones of us will fear saying anything.
Do you think policy will change this nonsense?
--
Yes, I have power, I'm so damn lucky that I can hardly believe it.

Open you ears, don't look away, face your fears, because: you can't push your problems away.

Another Fall's End (Poem)

Wandering Wind wonders, "Loose leaves left?"
Green's gone, yellow saunters, Red's crusting.
Passively, Wind ponders its reapings and thefts.
Once a canopy's now's a carpet: dreadfully dirty and dusting.

Yellow considers, contemplates and fears:
absorption to the soil, worms, ants, and bugs;
Can no longer see the faces of his peers...
Will no longer get the satisfaction of touches and hugs.

Green danced through a windy maelstrom,
beautiful to watch, Yellow oohed and awed her grace:
eventually penetrated-ripped by Fury Hail-storm.
She wisped Red, who never gave her embrace.

When Wind wailed, he watched her fall.
Whistling Wind didn't defeat him in belching blasts.
But the hole-ly lass looked frightened and small.
In the calm of calamity, he'd join her at last.

Wrinkled brown he descended to the defeated;
slowly drifting and willing they touch.
...So close to where she slumped seated.
Would she understand that he needed her so much?

They embraced around a seed, certain of their demise.
In the toil for each other's warmth, came a sprouting surprise.

A couple of months with a couple: the monks (poem)

Friar Chris, the provincial traveler, an ascetic by nature, evangelic unraveler. While on his first pilgrimage, barefoot in the winter, he viewed her visage, and had to win her. It must have been god that stumbled him in as he thought, "I need a drink, caffeine... "hot... 'Koffee?' is the name of this spot? He opened the door, dripping all over the place. As the puddle seeped to the floor, he caught the lass's face. In that gaze, his skin melted, but time froze.

Sister Shaina, ever the woman of chastity, charity, vitality, and vigilance. Was spending this winter day, and her paycheck, to give free drugs away. "They need it!" She nobly thought, "Heart warming caffeine, something hot!" And so it came to pass, a miracle from the love in this lass. She turned water into coffee with style and grace, holding the pot she noticed a new frigid face. In that gaze, her skin melted, but time froze.

--

Then time started. Each moment their eyes met retold each time they parted. A moment of a page of a story, each moment compounded cerebral glory. Shaina brought more guests to a lovely home, see it all reflect on his shiny dome. Heaping helpings of hilarity: Swarley's cuteness and sprinkling charity... A pot luck for this, and friends-giving that: wave that turkey-call in your fist... while wearing Santa's hat!

The Monks married and merry, cheeks and cheeks: rosy and cherry. Parties for guests, characters galore: beer makers, cheese cooks, engineers and more. I stumbled on senses of humor with holes and balls. Golf. And got to show off telephone pole charged fireballs!

What joy it's been these friendly few months, I look forward to more with this couple:
The Monks!

Talking to engineers (thought)

Internet, I have a request for you:

Take a look at this imbibing device, the drinking tool, a hollow transparent cylinder with one impermeable side.

Gee, it's a glass.

Imagine trying to explain concepts like this to people all day of varying degrees of technical prowess.

Pratt and Whitney doesn't have names for the multiple million different parts on different engines, but has to use coded identifiers.

General practice in different departments are well accepted, but there are few to no standards bridging the departments. As a process engineer, my job was that bridge. Communication and clarification to create jet engine instructions.

This sentiment is shared across the technical realm. Engineers need to guess how much information you actually want when you ask them a question. We need to guess if you want us to tell you why to fix your computer, how to fix your computer, and if we come off as terribly rude when we assert way more help than you wanted.

So please be vocal with us, there's lag while we think of a response and some of us might miss a key facial expression.

He*~*art (poem)

Ebbing pain...ebbing?
It's still so clear.
______  is my memory stain.
I now get lectured from my brain,
my heart once blossomed just feels... plain.
That person's out there in this plane...
and maybe that person must feel the same.
But how? Why? and Who cares for my trust now?
And am I insane?
It feel right to cast blame in spells of violence,
with all my mustered might, I can't quell the thunder of this silence.
Those explosions hammer and resonate to a beat, a beat,
a pumping heartbeat.